I can just see all you 80's trendsetters swaying in front of your keyboards... "nyah nyah nyah nyah nyah..."
I also know how to tease people over to my blog, don't I? /grin
Like I said in this other post the other day, no more coddling you Facebook Fiends. If you like Trailer Park Karma, I want your eyeballs here on this piece of Web property. Facebook's fine, but really... who *can't* do FB? /grin
So here's what boys like:
And here's why you're seein what boys like:
Neighbor GirlDawg, who shall remain unnamed here to protect what's left of her innocence, has been itchin (if you know what I mean, and I don't mean fleas, although there's them, too) and therefore hanging out in my acreage for nearly a week now.
No, we don't have "animal control" here, whether that's official personnel or even laws. What you do when there's an animal problem out in my neck o The Sticks -- and this is per the only authority for 100 miles around, to whom I spoke way back when I first moved here just so I was in on the up-and-up -- is take care of it yourself.
However that may happen.Take that hand you were dealt and let the chips fall where they may.
So when I got back from Swamp City after a few days, I was really hoping GirlDawg had retreated. The Boy and I pull the Buddhamobile in to my dusty driveway (dusty, even in the rain, no kidding, it's that dry out here) around Midnight and there she sat in the middle of the front yard, just beyond the place where I'd shoveled up a dead cat (her love offering to Burb Dawg, no doubt) before leaving town.
Worse, there was evidence that GirlDawg's BFF's (two ratty, roaming ankle-biters who've been wreaking havoc in this town since before I moved in) have been partyin on our porch with her the whole time I was gone.
The Boy was granted maternal permission to fire at will, with a caveat: please avoid their faces.
"No guarantees," was his reply. Good enough for me.
It took a few skirmishes but, for now, the Bevy of Beautiful Bitches has fallen back. Not even a big ol' rawhide stick can bring the winsome grin back to Burb Dawg's countenance.
I've received my first lesson in air-soft shooting and reloading, so I can act quickly when I'm not copywriting or boiling boxed mac 'n cheese while The Boy romps around town. All's well. Just don't mention the incident to Burb Dawg.
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